25 My Commander Blamed Me For A Drowning In Front Of The Whole Crew — He Didn't Know A 10-Year-Old Boy Still Had My Glove

Nakamura came for her at 14:20.

He had a folder in his hand and a cup of coffee he had clearly gotten from the crew lounge machine and a way of sitting down across from her that made her feel, for the first time in two weeks, that someone was on her side.

"Seaman Brooks," he said.

"Senior Chief."

"You're a rescue swimmer. Not a seaman. But we'll get to that." Nakamura opened the folder. "I've read the report. I've read the watch log. I've read the launch record. I've listened to the radio recording four times. I've spoken to your crew. And I've spoken to Eli Dawson and his grandmother."

"And?"

"And I want to tell you something before we go any further." Nakamura set the folder down. "I have been a CGIS investigator for nineteen years. I have investigated more search-and-rescue failures than I can count. And in almost every one of them, the rescue swimmer made a mistake. The swimmer was tired. The swimmer was scared. The swimmer misread the water. The swimmer misread the chart. The swimmer went to the wrong place. And the family of the person who died wanted someone to blame. And the service gave them someone to blame. And that was that."

Leah did not say anything.

"But this is not that," Nakamura said. "This is not a rescue swimmer who made a mistake. This is a rescue swimmer who did everything right and was punished for it. The report says you were given sector 4. The radio recording says you were given sector 4. The watch log says you were given sector 4. But the buoy tag on your glove is from sector 2, and your crew says you turned the boat, and the boy says you pulled him out of the water in sector 2. So either the buoy tag, the crew, and the boy are all wrong, or the report, the recording, and the log are all wrong."

"The report, the recording, and the log are all wrong," Leah said.

"I know." Nakamura picked up his coffee. "The question is how they came to be wrong. And I think I know the answer to that, but I need you to tell me what you know before I confirm it."

Leah sat forward.

"Senior Chief," she said, "I need to tell you something."

"Go ahead."

"Two weeks ago, the night of the rescue, I heard Marcus Dawson say something on the radio that I haven't told anyone. He said, 'They're shooting at us.'"

Nakamura's cup stopped halfway to his mouth.

"He said what?"

"He said, 'They're shooting at us.' It was after the initial distress call. It was at 21:52. He said his vessel was being fired on by a larger vessel and that he was taking on water and that he had a child on board. And then the radio cut out."

"And you didn't report this?"

"I reported it to the watch officer. I reported it in the same transmission where I told him I was redirecting to sector 2. The watch officer told me to return to sector 4. I told him the distress call was from sector 2. He told me I would be relieved. I said yes, sir, and I kept going."

"And the report?"

"The report does not mention that Marcus Dawson said his vessel was being fired on. The report does not mention a larger vessel. The report does not mention any of it."

Nakamura set his coffee down.

"Seaman Brooks," he said, "I need to tell you something. I have the original recording. Not the one that was played in the debriefing bay. The original. The one that came off the tower at Cape May and was stored in the secure archive. And you are right. At 21:52, Marcus Dawson said his vessel was being fired on by a larger vessel. And then the recording goes silent for four seconds, and then it picks back up with a Coast Guard transmission from your watch officer telling you to return to sector 4."

"Someone edited the recording."

"Not edited. It's the same recording. It's the same file. But the file has a marker on it. It was flagged at 03:15 the morning after the rescue. Flagged by a system administrator using an account that belongs to Commander Rusk."

Leah closed her eyes.

"Senior Chief," she said. "There is something else."

"Go ahead."

"Marcus Dawson told me on the radio that he had been reporting illegal fishing in sector 2 to the state of New Jersey for two years. He said the boats were poaching striped bass in a restricted spawning zone and he had photographs and he had a logbook and he had names. He said he had been threatened. He said he had been told to stop. He said he didn't stop."

Nakamura looked at her for a long moment.

"Seaman Brooks," he said, "do you know who owns the largest fish processing facility in Cape May County?"

"No, sir."

"A man named Victor Gage." Nakamura opened his folder. "Victor Gage is the brother-in-law of Commander Colin Rusk. Victor Gage has been investigated by the state of New Jersey four times in the past three years for purchasing fish from unlicensed boats. He has never been charged. He has never been cited. The state's investigation has been closed each time for lack of evidence."

Leah's heart was pounding.

"Senior Chief," she said, "are you telling me that Commander Rusk changed my position in the report to keep me away from sector 2 because sector 2 is where his brother-in-law's poaching boats operate?"

Nakamura did not answer.

He set his folder down.

"Seaman Brooks," he said, "I am not telling you anything. I am going to spend the next six weeks finding out whether what you just said is true. And if it is true, I am going to recommend to the Fifth District commander that Commander Rusk be relieved of duty pending a formal investigation. And if it is not true, I am going to recommend to the Fifth District commander that you be returned to duty with a written apology. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I need you to do two things for me."

"What?"

"First, I need you to write down everything Marcus Dawson said to you on that radio, word for word, in your own hand, and sign it and date it. Second, I need you to not talk to anyone about any of this until I come back to you. Not your crew. Not your family. Not your chief. Not your division officer. Nobody. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Nakamura stood up.

"Seaman Brooks," he said, "one more thing."

"Sir."

"The boy. Eli. He asked me to tell you something."

"What?"

"He asked me to tell you that he is sorry about your glove."

Leah's eyes filled.

"Senior Chief," she said, "you tell him the glove doesn't matter. You tell him I would have given him both gloves. You tell him I would have given him anything."